


The Forms of Love

by CreativWit



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Emotional Constipation, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, I Love You, Saying "I Love You" Has Never Been So Difficult, Showing Love in the Strangest of Ways, Tough Love, Valentine's Day, a dash of angst, aggressive love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativWit/pseuds/CreativWit
Summary: It's that time of year again...The Kaer Morons don't know how to appropriately tell each other they love them throughout the year, so they do it the only way they know how...aggressively.Gifted fic for the one and only, Haven (or Rose_SK on Ao3)
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	The Forms of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose_SK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/gifts).



> Hello! Yes, this is a Valentine's Day fic a whole week earlier than actual Valentine's Day, but I can explain!
> 
> So, about a month ago, Haven and I first met on Discord. And for the past month, she has been absolutely incredible and patient and kind. I cannot express that enough. Haven...doesn't know I was planning this, nor did she know I was writing it. And it was really hard to keep it from her! 
> 
> It didn't come out exactly the way I wanted it to. Finding ways of showing aggressive love was _so hard._ But I hope I made it somewhat enjoyable nonetheless.
> 
> Haven, thank you for everything, and I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> As for everyone else, thank you for being here and reading. It means a lot <3

When Eskel woke up, the first thing to greet him was the dawn. Winter sunlight poured through his window, brightening his room. He would have liked to embrace the new day had he not realized, _Oh, fuck. I overslept._

Surprise or shock didn't come to him. He figured last night this would happen, though he had hoped it wouldn't. After spending the day and part of the night outside yesterday, breaking his back cutting wood, fixing the stables, and tending to repairs, he expected himself to knock out and not wake up for the next ten hours. Apparently, he did exactly that. What he did find confusing was that no one came to wake him up yet.

A silver platter with a dome top covering greeted him next. Suspicion and dread began to fill his stomach as he hesitantly reached out and lifted the cover. Immediately, the scent of bacon, cheese, buttered bread rolls, and eggs wafted into the air. Eskel's stomach growled in response. Just beside the platter of breakfast sat a small piece of parchment, folded to form a card that stood like a tent. On the front, in a surprisingly legible scrawl, it read, _"Kelly."_

Eskel's mouth dried, picking up the note. His brothers didn't call him Kelly, not unless they wanted something or they were feeling particularly affectionate. He couldn't muster up a reason for his brothers feeling _this_ good, to leave him a note and breakfast _and_ sleep in? Eskel lifted the flap of the notecard, bracing himself for the message.

_Good morning, sleepyhead!_

_Here's breakfast for you. You know, for whenever you wake up. Oh, by the way, are you feeling well-rested? You shouldn't have worked so hard yesterday. Really makes you miss the sleeping draught I slipped into your drink last night. And don't worry, it was past midnight, so it still counts. You can ask Geralt to confirm that._

_Start the tally :)_   
_~ Lamb_

Eskel crumpled the overly-cheery note in his fist, realization dawning on him in seconds. No. No way. That _bastard._ And he hadn't even cheated! If it truly had been past midnight, then it was fair game. Eskel had already slept a portion of the day away.

To be fair, he did feel very well-rested. Better than he had in months, even while here in Kaer Morhen. His body didn't feel so heavy, and he felt like he actually had energy to spare. Any other day, he might've thanked Lambert for drugging him. But today was not like any other day. No. Between the sleeping in and the breakfast...this was war.

_And that asshole was already two points ahead._

~~~~~~~

Geralt dashed through the keep, not even apologizing to Jaskier as he flew past in the hallway, startling the poor bard into nearly dropping his books. He'll say sorry later, but right now, he had to catch up. Upon seeing the dirty dishes in the sink, Geralt instantly knew what happened.

_Lambert. Fucking Lambert. Two whole points already?!_

Vesemir sat in his favorite chair in the library, reading an old book Geralt couldn't quite make out the name of. Not that he cared. He had more important things to do.

"Ves!" Geralt barked, chest heaving from his mad dash from one side of the keep to the other. 

Vesemir's head snapped up, looking at his middle child with a raised eyebrow. His muscles tensed, clearly bracing for bad news. "Yes?"

"Whose job is it to do the dishes?"

Vesemir narrowed his eyes in confusion, brows furrowing. "What?"

"The dishes!" Geralt repeated, foot tapping impatiently, itching to get back to the kitchen. "Whose job?"

"Eskel's, I believe. Why?"

Geralt didn't answer. He darted back through the hallways, grabbing corners to pull himself around faster. Eskel better still be under Lambert's sleeping draught. If he's in the kitchen, so help him, Geralt will bodily shove him out the window if he had to. He sprinted past Jaskier again, calling out a brief, "Sorry, Jask!" 

All he heard in response was an indignant squawk. Geralt winced. He'll admit that he hadn't exactly given the best apology ever. Whatever. He'll grovel at Jaskier's feet tomorrow. For now, the kitchen was just in sight. 

Geralt skidded through the doorway, eyes darting around the room. No one around. Perfect. 

Dropping off a drying towel and bar of soap on the counter, Geralt grabbed a bucket, filled it at the tap in the corner of the kitchen, and heated the water with Igni. He tried to move quickly, ears tuned into the surroundings around him. He couldn't afford Eskel walking in here, and he really needed to get to his chores, too. He scrubbed at the dishes, trying to ignore the pettiness in his chest.

A pity point. This was a _pity point._

No way Lambert was that dumb. Such a cocky bastard. He did this on purpose. He left all these dishes here for Geralt to clean and earn a point instead of just doing them himself as he should've. Or maybe he wanted to leave more dishes for Eskel to wash, hoping it would take him longer to do this task so Lambert would have more time to complete Eskel's for him. Geralt growled to himself. All this reverse psychology bullshit was making his head spin. 

Geralt dried the last dish, putting it away in the cupboards. Right on time, apparently, because he caught the scent of Eskel coming from down the hall. Swearing silently to himself, Geralt bolted out of the kitchen, taking the corner just before Eskel appeared in the hallway. Successfully escaping his brother's sight, Geralt raced to the doors of the keep.

He had one point. Lambert would regret giving him that.

~~~~~~~

Lambert sighed happily to himself, strolling through the hallway. He had three points, not that his brothers knew yet, but they would soon. Three points and the day had just started. Lambert smiled widely, a contented sigh escaping his lips. Today was a great day so far. Now, he just had to get to the armory and finish the surplus of chores he had to do in there. 

Getting the chore list from Vesemir yesterday was the best decision he ever made. Knowing what everyone had to do before they did was a game-changer. He should've slipped a sleeping draught into Geralt's mug, too, last night, but that would have been cheating. Unlike Eskel, Geralt hadn't needed that much rest, hadn't been at the point of dropping dead-asleep in the middle of the hallway. The only time that bastard knew how to take care of himself was near today. Lambert had gotten lucky with Eskel forgetting. With that sleeping draught in place, Lambert had a head-start and Eskel was an easy target. If Eskel hadn't been asleep, Lambert wouldn't have been able to clean Scorpion's stall, and he wouldn't be three points ahead.

So, yeah, Lambert was feeling fairly proud of himself.

That is, until he saw the armory.

According to Vesemir, Lambert had seven chores to complete in that room alone: cleaning the swords, fixing the training ones, mopping the floor, replacing the rags, creating a supply list for their toolkit, nailing the fallen shelf back onto the wall, and restocking the shelves. Stuffing the torn training dummies, a time-consuming task on its own, was left to Geralt. Lambert planned on doing those once he finished his.

Except...all those chores were already done.

Lambert's heart sunk, great mood disappearing as he took in the sight of the completely repaired armory. The swords practically shone in the candlelight, and the floor sparkled. The broken shelf hung on the wall like it had never fallen to begin with. A perfectly-created supply list sat on the toolkit, and above it, bombs and oils were categorized by type and set in neat rows. The training dummies stood upright, stuffed to the brim and untouched. 

His heart shattered at the sight of a parchment tent sitting on the table. On the front, it read, _"Lamb."_ Lambert wanted to crush the note without even reading it, but he forced himself to pick it up and lift the cover.

_Hey, pup!_

_I'll tell you what, the sleeping draught just after midnight was a good touch. Maybe I'll keep it in mind for next year. A tip for you in return? Don't get too cocky. Oh, and make sure you measure out the dosage correctly. I'm larger than you, remember? A dosage that will knock you out for a day only takes me out for an extra hour or two. Guess that's two tips. How generous of me. You're welcome for doing your chores, by the way. Less work for you! Maybe you should take the time and relax a bit. Your shoulders have been looking a little tense._

_Love, Kelly.  
_

_P.S. Is that my eight to your two? Keep up, Lambchop._

No...no, no, no. Fuck!

Lambert crushed the note in his hand, burning it with Igni as he darted through the keep. He scented the air with every step. He had to find Geralt _now._ Where did that useless piece of shit go?

He found his brother in the cellar, completing his own task of pushing heavy boxes for Eskel to bring up later. Boxes that were too heavy for Geralt to lift up the stairs on his own. Maybe if he could convince Geralt…

"Geralt!" Lambert shouted, breathless and practically tripping over himself as he fled down the stairs two steps at a time.

His brother's head snapped up, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "If you've come to take this one-"

"No! No, it's Eskel!"

"What about him?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The fucker has eight points!"

At that, Geralt's face paled, eyes widening and jaw dropping slightly. "He...what? How?!"

"He got to my chores in the armory!" Lambert ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. "There were a whole seven, easy chores stacked there, plus your training dummies task. I don't know how he stuffed them all so quick, but they're _done!"_

"Did...did he do them _well?_ Can we convince Ves to say it wasn't a good job and get the points revoked?"

"Geralt, he did it _perfectly."_

"Fuck," Geralt breathed, running a hand over his face before intertwining both hands behind his neck. "Fuck! How could you leave seven simple tasks lying around, Lambert?!"

This was probably the only time today that Geralt would yell at him for not leaving those chores open for him to steal. Now, Eskel had a whole eight points to Lambert's three and Geralt's…

"How many points do you have so far?" Lambert huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as he tried to think this through.

"Three."

"What? Since when?"

Geralt blew out a breath, cheeks puffing out as he recalled his achievements. "Uh, I did the dishes for Eskel, fed Lil Bleater, and replaced the firewood in your room. Eskel's was already filled, that bastard."

Lambert groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Gods dammit," he growled. "I forgot to do the dishes, and I was _right_ next to Lil Bleater while I was mucking out Scorpion's stall. Fuck! I could've been at five points right now!"

"So that's why Scorpion's stall was so clean when I went," Geralt hummed to himself. "So you're at, what, three, too?"

Lambert nodded slowly. "Geralt…we need a truce."

"A truce?" Geralt furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that even allowed?"

"We never said it wasn't. Besides, Eskel is at eight points and counting. The time it's taking us to talk this through, and with how fast he's been moving, that fucking mountain of a jackass is probably at fifteen points already."

Geralt growled, running his hands over his face. "Gods, this was supposed to be for him to- Fuck it. Truce."

"Okay. Here's the plan. We help each other with Eskel's tasks, share the points. We ignore our own chores and each other for now. Deal?"

"Deal." Geralt nodded seriously. He turned to the heavy boxes, grimacing at the sight. "This was gonna be one of his tasks I couldn't do. These fuckers are _heavy."_

Lambert winced. "He also has a wood-cutting chore."

"And he has to get the mortar and stone up to the roof."

"And also clean the fireplaces."

Geralt and Lambert looked at each other, sympathy written on their faces, but not for themselves.

"Maybe we should do this more than once a year...?" Geralt suggested quietly, looking a bit ashamed of himself. 

Lambert groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, and maybe have Ves give us some of those chores instead."

Geralt groaned, moving to one of the many boxes that had to be carried upstairs. "We'll figure it out later. For now, we need to get started on these. We can't let him get any further ahead."

~~~~~~~

Eskel hummed to himself, all but dancing as he made his way to the stables. He had quite a few things to do in there, like groom Scorpion, clean out his stall, feed Lil Bleater, and brush out her fur. With his ten points, he figured he was far ahead of his brothers.

And to think he started off much later than they did.

Eskel chuckled to himself, shaking his head. How cute of them to think they could be better at this than he was. It was almost like they'd forgotten who taught them this in the first place. Whatever. He'll sort them out, just like he did almost every day of every year. This was nothing new.

Pushing open the stable door, Eskel lifted his head to greet his animals, only to freeze at the sight.

Geralt and Lambert turned to him from different spots in the stables, shit-eating grins growing across their faces. Geralt stopped cleaning Scorpion's shoes, while Lambert continued to brush down Lil Bleater's fur. Both look equally amused. Annoyance sprouted in Eskel's chest.

_Oh, these little shits..._

"Shoulda been faster, brother," Geralt hummed, standing as he ran a hand down Scorpion's flank. His traitor of a horse turned his head, bumping into Geralt's chest affectionately. Eskel narrowed his eyes. For that, he was so going to steal Roach this coming spring.

"Gotta be quicker than that," Lambert taunted, pulling out a carrot from his back pocket. Lil Bleater happily took it from him, munching away without a spare glance to her owner. Eskel had to fight to keep his mouth closed. _Both_ of them were traitors? He needed new pets.

"You two are unbelievable," Eskel growled. 

Geralt tilted his head, pretending to think. "Let's see. I groomed Scorpion and fed him, so that's two more points for me. Got six points in total. Lamb?"

"Brushed Lil Bleater and cleaned out her pen. Two more points. I'm at six," Lambert answered, smile growing. "What about you, Esk?"

Eskel wanted to smack those grins off their faces. Just what were they playing at? "Ten," he bit out.

Geralt mockingly flinched. "Ouch. Pretty big lead there. But it'll close soon enough."

...what did he mean by that?

Lambert snorted, likely seeing the suspicious look on Eskel's face. "I'd get moving if I were you. There's still half a day, and I'm gonna be honest, the number of your chores is gonna start falling fast."

Eskel gave them one last wary look before deciding the argument wasn't worth it. The longer he stood there, the more time he wasted. If Lambert was right, then it wasn't just his chores he was running out of. Once the chores were done, points would be so much harder to come by. 

That didn't stop him from flipping them off as he left. Their snickers followed him out the door, only serving to raise his annoyance. Eskel made his way back to the keep, intent on finding the next few tasks on his list. 

He might have to give up on his chores, let his brothers take them. It'd give them a few more points, but his chores took far longer than theirs did. Being the strongest of the witchers, Eskel tended to get the more heavy-duty tasks. Those tasks, though, ended up taking more time than Geralt and Lambert's easier house-keeping chores. It'd be tedious and more than a little frustrating, but today was all about compromise.

And, well, other things, too, but compromise certainly made the list. 

It wasn't until Eskel was in the library completing Geralt's task of shelving scattered books that the realization dawned on him.

_Those fuckers have a deal._

Eskel huffed to himself, a disbelieving grin pulling the corners of his lips. Unbelievable. The one time his little brothers actually wanted to work together was when they were plotting against him. That was fine. Eskel would let them have their deal. 

They both had six points, right? Meaning one of them would have to break their little truce at some point to get ahead. Yeah...Eskel could work with that...

~~~~~~~

Geralt had never confronted a harder decision in his life. The self-assured look on Eskel's face told Geralt his older brother knew it, too. 

"Come on, Geralt," Eskel coaxed. "Think about it. Do this for me, and I'll give you a point, too. After all, you would have played a role in this one."

The point...if he took this deal, it would put Eskel further in the lead, and the difference between their scores wouldn't shift. But a point was still a point, and it could always be that _one_ point that pushed Geralt over the edge in the end. Not only that, but if he agreed, he'd be able to break the tie between him and Lambert.

The main problem, though, was that Eskel would get a point, too. Between the three of them working with or against each other, Eskel's chores for the day were all completed. That took a whole list off the board, more than twenty points between the three of them from Eskel's duties alone. If Geralt did this, he gave Eskel a boost, too. Geralt would never be able to beat him to the hot springs in time. Could he really afford to give Eskel that extra point?

"The lesser evil, Geralt," Eskel mused, a serious expression on his face.

Geralt sobered quickly, staring Eskel dead in the eye. "Lesser, greater, middling...it's all the same."

"So?" Eskel asked, smirking. He already knew the answer. "What will it be, Geralt of Rivia?"

~~~~~~~

"You motherfucker!" Lambert yelled, eyes ablaze with fury from where he had fallen into the mud pile.

No. Not fallen. _Tripped._

Geralt gazed down at him unsympathetically from where they had been repairing the roof of the stables, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. "Sometimes, the lesser evil must be chosen for the greater good."

Lambert's jaw dropped, the realization dawning on him. "You rat-ass bastard. You made a deal." He stood up, arms waving wildly. "Have you lost sight of our goal, Geralt? Have you turned your back on the cause?"

Geralt looked up at the sky, the grey overcast of the incoming blizzard tossing a dramatic shadow over his pale face. "I once knew honor, but I'm afraid the consequences are far too great for me to handle."

"He'll win!" Lambert continued, voice almost begging. "You can't turn your back on me now!"

Geralt closed his eyes, tilting his head back down before shaking it slowly. "I'm sorry, Lambert, but sacrifices must be made."

"I don't know what the fuck you two are doing," Vesemir snapped, glaring at them from his study's balcony, "but get a hold of yourselves. And, Lambert, go wash off in the hot springs. You're filthy."

And just like that, Lambert's traitorous brother sealed his fate.

~~~~~~~

Lambert wanted to knock the smug look off Eskel's face.

"Aw, come on, Lamb. It's not that bad," Eskel cooed, approaching the hot springs with his instruments of torture in his hands. "You might actually enjoy this."

"Don't talk to me."

Eskel tsked, kneeling behind Lambert and setting his supplies down beside him. "Now, now. That's not good sportsmanship, you know."

Lambert huffed, sinking further into the water. He'd rinsed off before hopping in, but mud and hay still clung to his hair and skin. With Eskel here, he had no choice but to follow the rules of their game and submit. He prepared himself to dislike it, no matter how nice it may feel. Eskel would still get the point, but Lambert refused to give him the satisfaction of having Lambert relax.

Eskel hummed quietly behind him, the mocking tune of _"The old hen, she cackled"_ reminding Lambert of whose claws had sunk into him. He couldn't believe Geralt. They'd had a _deal._ That prick. And to think Lambert had started the day off so well.

"Water," Eskel murmured, a warning even as he placed a hand over Lambert's face to shield him from the water he dumped over Lambert's head. Before Lambert could respond, Eskel began rubbing soap into his hair, massaging his scalp along the way. 

A relieved groan nearly made its way from Lambert's chest, but he caught it in time. Admitting Eskel's strong fingers felt great against his skin meant losing, and Lambert was not ready to lose just yet. He gritted his teeth and bore through it. He didn't like this, he didn't like this, _he didn't like this..._

Eskel didn't wash the soap out of his hair yet. Instead, he let his hands fall from Lambert's scalp and slowly drift towards his neck. Lambert bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes. Unbelievable. Was Eskel really going to-?

A sigh slipped unbidden from Lambert's lips as Eskel dug his fingers into the tense muscles of Lambert's shoulders. Gods dammit. He could almost see the satisfied grin on Eskel's face behind him. He huffed.

"Don't need to be so happy about it, you ass."

Eskel didn't ask how he knew, didn't try to deny it. Instead, he mused quietly, "This wouldn't have happened if you would stop doing things for me."

"Only if you stop doing it first," Lambert grumbled, steadfastly keeping his eyes shut. Eskel's hands never stopped their careful ministrations.

"Mm. That's not how this works, little brother."

"Then I guess Geralt and I will have to keep going."

"Guess we will. But might I remind you-" he leaned in closer and whispered in Lambert's ear - "Twenty points."

Lambert really wanted to punch him.

~~~~~~~

Jaskier knocked on the door to Vesemir's study, a frown deepening on his face. The wolves had been running around the keep like chickens without heads all day, yet none stopped to explain why. All he received were hurried "Sorry, Jask!" as they bolted around the corner. After Geralt nearly bowled him over for the eighth time in the past two hours, Jaskier decided he'd had enough and gone straight to the top.

"Come in."

Jaskier pushed open the door, spotting Vesemir in his chair by the fireplace. A steaming cup of tea sat on the small oak table beside him. Vesemir scarcely looked up from his book, gesturing to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table. 

"Join me, bard."

Jaskier complied. He had planned to, anyway. His curiosity had grown far past a small amusement at this point. Jaskier crossed one leg over the other, staring into the fire. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Vesemir cut him off.

"I was wondering when you would ask. Surprised it took this long. Impressed, even."

Jaskier snorted, a smile pulling at his face. "I was hoping to get an answer out of the others first before I came to you."

"And how well did that play out?"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Vesemir chuckled, closing his book and setting it on the table. He turned his attention to Jaskier, who immediately faced him as well. "Do you know what today is?"

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows, smile dropping into a confused frown. "Just another day of winter, yes?"

Vesemir raised an eyebrow, looking a bit surprised himself. "Hm. Of all people, I would have expected you to get the answer correctly."

Jaskier couldn't help but feel properly chastised, despite Vesemir's comment having been the furthest thing from a scolding. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's easy to lose track of the days when the mornings and nights start to blur into one."

"I suppose," Vesemir allowed, tilting his head in acknowledgment. "You haven't been here long, still unused to the changing of days. I can see how it may be hard to remember." He sighed, an exasperated look suddenly crossing his face. "It is the day honoring Saint Valentine."

Jaskier could feel his jaw drop. No wonder Vesemir had looked shocked he hadn't remembered. As a lover (a fairly generous and experienced one, might he add), the Feast of Saint Valentine was one of his favorite holidays, and he had completely forgotten about it. He didn't have anything planned!

Another thought pushed his inner reprimands away. "Wait, wait, wait. Why would today affect how the others are acting? Shouldn't they be the complete opposite of...whatever they are? Or perhaps even unaffected? It's the holiday of love and affection. No offense, Ves, but you are all the farthest thing from that."

Vesemir laughed quietly, clearly entertained by Jaskier's less-than-eloquent phrasing. "Yes, we are. That is why the boys are so driven today." At Jaskier's befuddled look, he continued,

"They have a hard time showing affection, true, but that does not mean they love each other any less. Thus, this rather silly game was created. On the day of Saint Valentine, the boys rush to complete tasks for one another, perform favors. They keep a tally as well, tracking the amount of 'points' they earn."

Jaskier frowned, trying to wrap that sort of logic in his head. It was the exact kind of complex and utterly irrational way of thinking that suited his witchers far too well. He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing away the forming headache at his temples. 

"They keep track of their scores? Doesn't that diminish the purpose of what they're trying to do? It's less about giving affection at that point, isn't it? More about winning?"

Vesemir hummed. "Sure, if you want to think of it that way. Remember, the boys aren't used to giving affection so openly. Eskel, maybe. Lambert and Geralt? It's harder. The points are their way of distancing themselves, but they are no less sincere about what they do."

"Something tells me I need to give you all lessons in family bonding."

"Perhaps," Vesemir agreed, a small breath of laughter escaping him. "But the game is only half-finished. The chores likely would have been completed by now, or most of them, anyway. Next, they'll have to find ways of showing they care without relieving each other of menial tasks."

"How long does this game last again?"

"From the first stroke of midnight to the next. Prepare yourself, Jaskier. We still have hours to go."

~~~~~~~

Eskel was going to murder Geralt, and even though Lambert was still pissed at him, he was sure their younger brother harbored even more anger towards Geralt. Eskel might just have a chance at convincing Lambert to help him. But, damn it, if the plate in front of him didn't smell delicious.

"Well?" Geralt asked, that stupid knowing smirk on his face. "Eat up."

"When did you have time to make this?" Lambert snarled, glaring daggers at the roasted potatoes mixed with warm beef stew. It smelled so _good_ , but it also smelled like the deepest pits of treachery.

"While you were getting cleaned like a babe," Geralt answered, ignoring Lambert's warning growl. He turned to Eskel, looking all too satisfied with himself. "I'd expected you to dig in by now. It's your favorite meal after all."

"You are such an ass," Eskel hissed. He reluctantly picked up his spoon. Geralt, despite how infuriatingly arrogant, was right. This was his favorite meal, and even if it wasn't, there were still rules he had to follow. 

Geralt gave a pleased hum, sitting at the table with them and with a bowl of his own. "I believe that's eighteen for me."

"I believe I'm gonna shove my foot up your ass if you don't shut up," Lambert snarked, bringing the spoon to his mouth. Eskel did the same, taking the first sip of the stew.

It tasted delicious. Because, of course, it did.

It only made the irritation in Eskel's chest grow.

~~~~~~~

The rest of the afternoon followed much in the same way. Points came slower now, the lack of obvious chores making it harder to garner favors. The witchers actually had to think hard about their next moves, wondering how in the hell they could get their brothers to agree, or at least submit, to their caretaking.

That wasn't to say things didn't happen, though. Lambert managed to score a couple of points by bringing out gifts he'd bought while on the Path. They usually exchanged souvenirs at the beginning of winter, but Lambert hoarded these gifts for this day in particular. Eskel gave a severe glare as he gratefully accepted the warm, fur-lined, black cloak Lambert handed to him. Geralt snarled, taking the carved wooden wolf with a gentleness comparable to cradling a babe.

Geralt, on the other hand, scored his points in a way that surprised them all. When the encroaching blizzard finally rolled in, bringing winds that slipped through the cracks of the keep and leaving Lambert shivering, Geralt had tossed a bundle of blankets at him. He watched Lambert flounder for a moment before stomping over, shoving Lambert in front of the fire, and roughly tugging the blankets around him until the youngest pup had been stuffed into a cocoon. When Eskel had started to rise to his feet, intent on finding something to do to gain a point, Geralt had latched onto him, using his deadweight to pull Eskel back to the ground in a forced cuddling session. It only took mere seconds for Eskel to melt against his brother, and Geralt still didn't let go, not even now, nearly twenty minutes later.

Eskel was starting to get worried. Of his brothers, he was the most affectionate. He gave the unexpected bear hugs, the sentimental gifts, the soft words of encouragement. Yet, today, Geralt and Lambert seemed to be close behind him in points, even more so than years previous. He couldn't lose this, not when there was so much on the line.

Except...except he couldn't really remember what he had to lose. This whole game, none of them ever really _lost,_ did they? It was simply their emotionally-stunted way of telling each other they loved one another. It was supposed to be a relieving thing, a method of expressing themselves in the only way they knew how: aggressively. Perhaps it was too aggressive?

Eskel bit back a groan as he shifted in Geralt's arms. His brother tightened his grip in response, getting an amused huff from Eskel.

"Relax," Eskel mumbled, eyes drifting shut. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Damn right you're not," Geralt retorted, but he sounded almost as tired as Eskel did. Lambert didn't even pitch in, likely too exhausted to think of a witty remark.

This was what Eskel feared. In all their efforts to show their love, they only managed to tire themselves more than they should. That wonderful wakefulness Eskel had experienced in the morning from the sleeping draught had fled, leaving a bone-deep weariness and soreness that grated on his every nerve. Love shouldn't be tiring or painful. It shouldn't be a competition, their endearments symbolized by a tally mark or memorized number. It only left one thought in Eskel's mind.

"We can't keep doing this."

The words came out before he realized he meant to say them. He couldn't bring himself to regret it. He tensed up, ready to argue back and forth with his brothers, only to feel Geralt start to stroke his back in response.

"No," Geralt murmured. "We can't."

From a few feet away, in his blanket cocoon, Lambert hummed in agreement. "This feels like shit."

"It shouldn't be this hard for us," Eskel sighed, pressing his face further into Geralt's chest. 

He felt Geralt's chest rise and fall heavily as he took a deep breath. "We need to do better than this."

"How do you propose that?" Lambert asked, voice muffled as he shifted to bring the blankets closer to him.

"By you coming over here first," Geralt replied, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. "We can still hear your teeth chattering."

"Shut up. No, they're not," Lambert growled, but Eskel could hear him shuffling to lay behind Geralt. 

"It wouldn't take much change," Eskel offered, finally deciding to close his eyes. "We do this, just...no points. No competition. No racing to do something before the others."

"Help each other," Geralt considered, "not fight against each other."

Lambert let out a deep sigh. "Yeah. And...maybe we could...say _it_...a bit more."

Eskel couldn't help but smile into Geralt's shirt at Lambert's discomfort. "Oh, yeah? Wanna start us off, little wolf?"

"Fuck off, Eskel."

"No, no, he's got a point," Geralt said, laughter in his voice. "Go ahead."

A silence followed, broken a few seconds later by incoherent mumbling.

"What was that?" Eskel asked, smile growing wider. "Didn't quite catch that."

Lambert groaned loudly. "I hate you."

"I think you said something different." Geralt's arm shifted, likely poking Lambert in his side if the ensuing grunt meant anything. "What was it?"

"...I love you. Both of you."

Eskel gave a content breath of laughter. "I love you, too."

Geralt hummed. Eskel and Lambert hit him at the same time.

"Alright, alright," Geralt chuckled. "I love you both, too."

Another silence passed over them, leaving the three cuddling together in front of the fire, but otherwise still distant. 

Eskel spoke first. "Well...we're not dead."

"And neither of us moved," Geralt added.

"...this love shit is easy," Lambert snickered. "Why didn't we do this before?"

"You're telling me we spent over a decade playing this dumb game when it was this easy?" Eskel joked, lifting his head to look his brothers in the eyes.

Two wide grins greeted him. Geralt looked more asleep than awake, but he kept his arms around Eskel, smelling more content than Eskel could ever remember him being. Lambert had crawled out of most of his blankets, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt's back. He also looked closer to sleep, but he still managed to have a tranquil expression plastered on his face. Eskel imagined he didn't look much different than they did. 

"Fuck, I'm tired," Eskel breathed, settling back down next to Geralt.

"I'm comfy," Geralt mumbled into Eskel's hair.

Lambert hummed quietly. "Me, too." 

Eskel's smile never wavered. "Good night," he whispered. And, just because he could, he added, "Love you."

"Love you, too," his brothers chorused back to him.

They fell asleep in front of the fire like that, closer together in more ways than just physically. Even in the midst of slumber, their smiles never left their faces. How could they, when a brighter and more loving future awaited them the next day and forever after that?


End file.
